


woke up dead

by callunavulgari



Series: TW Bingo [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, In Public, Manipulation, Statutory Rape, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be a killer, all you need is a reason. Kate has hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	woke up dead

**Author's Note:**

> For my Teen Wolf Bingo Square: In Public. This fic came about because for a couple months, I've had the intense burning desire to write a fic about how Kate became the way she is. She is a sociopath, but there is no doubt in my mind that Gerard shaped her into that, the same way he tried to with Allison. In an interview, Jeff Davis mentioned that he believed Kate had some affection for Derek when she was with him, but she burnt it out, which is what pushed me into actually writing this. This fic is about Kate, so there's your warning.

The first time that Kate sees a werewolf, she is five years old. Mommy had braided her hair that day for school pictures and it's messier now, because she’d made a boy cry on the playground and they’d spent five minutes rolling around in the dirt before a teacher had caught them. It wasn’t her fault that he was a jerk, and daddy had always told her to stand up to your enemies, so when he’d wrinkled his nose and said she was a weak little girl, she’d punched him in the nose and showed him just how weak she was.  
  
Kate doesn’t scream or cry when daddy takes her down to the basement. It’s damp and smelly, but she’s never been allowed to go down before. She’s curious, so she just peers up at the creature chained to the wall.   
  
“I knew you could handle this,” daddy tells her, crouching down at her side. She blinks at him for a moment before turning her attention back to the thing. “Chris wouldn’t be able to, but you can. I knew you could, my little spitfire.”  
  
Her brother is nine years old and no fun. He doesn’t play games with her anymore, not the way daddy does. Yesterday, daddy had sat next to her and taught her how to peel the wings off of a fly. She’d felt bad about it, because the fly just sputtered around until it died, but daddy had told her it was okay, and daddy was always right. She puffs up with pride, chin held high, and smiles brightly.  
  
“Your mother doesn’t agree, but I think that you’re ready for this. Are you ready for this, sweetheart?”  
  
She nods, overeager and happy, and watches carefully as daddy flips a switch that makes the monster writhe in pain.   
  
He tells her that this monster is like one of the creatures that killed her grandma, that they’re all better off dead. There’s a moment, where she wriggles with discomfort, because the creature reaches out to her and asks her to help it in a high, thin voice, and monsters shouldn’t talk. Monsters shouldn’t sound so human. She doesn’t understand.  
  
The moment passes when her daddy explains that sometimes, they’ll play pretend, to fool you into thinking they’re normal.   
  
An hour later, he asks if she’d like to try.  
  
She spins the dial innocently and flips the switch.  
  
It’s mostly an accident that it dies. She hadn’t known that that much electricity would kill it.  
  
She smiles at the thing anyway and thinks that it’s better this way. Now it doesn’t have to buzz around without its wings. She did end up helping it in the end.  
  
.  
  
Daddy brings her another monster and teaches her how to mix wolfsbane into her bullets. He ties her up and waits for her to figure out how to free herself. He gives her a gun and they practice, their little secret.  
  
Sometimes, mommy will look at her like she’s scared, whenever Kate smiles daddy’s smile. She doesn’t like it, because mommy shouldn’t be scared of her. Mommy should be scared of the monsters in the dark.  
  
She thinks that mommy might know about their secret, but can’t bring herself to ask daddy about it.  
  
.  
  
Her mother dies on her ninth birthday. Daddy comes to her, his eyes shiny and wet, and tells her that it was them, it was the wolves who did it.  
  
She won’t find out until much later, until after she’s dead and buried and _turned_ that it wasn’t werewolves that killed her mother at all — that it was her daddy, when mommy tried to take her and Chris away.  
  
The Kate Argent that her mother knew, the one who still felt guilt whenever the creatures whined in pain, dies at age nine.  
  
A weapon rises from her ashes.  
  
.  
  
Middle school and high school are both boring. They hop state to state, same as they always have, and the boys that start paying her attention aren’t as interesting as the sounds her prey makes when she slits their throats.  
  
Chris is still no fun, even after their father lets him in on their secret. She’s been meeting with other hunters since she was seven and Chris still balks at the idea of hurting the monsters. He even befriends one of them and that’s no good, so Kate comes home from her first day of high school, does her homework, and orchestrates everything.  
  
She makes sure it's Chris that puts his friend down, because the way his eyes go miserable afterwards means that he finally _gets it_.  
  
Dad smiles at her after, like he knows exactly what she’s done. She smiles back.  
  
.  
  
The day she graduates from high school, she goes out and hunts down the omega she’s been tracking for weeks. She shoots it first and guts it as it wriggles in pain, blood pouring out of the hole in its stomach and soaking the skirt she’d worn under her robes to the ceremony.   
  
The skirt is ruined, dark red soaking the white fabric, making it stick to her thigh.   
  
She snorts and stands up, arranging it before she saws it carefully, lovingly, in half.  
  
Her father kisses her temple when she gets home, and she preens, shucking her skirt and tossing it into the trash. Chris yells a lot about it, says that she should have taken backup, but she just laughs and pats the shotgun still leaned up against her hip.  
  
“I had backup,” she tells him, and kisses him between the eyes when he scowls at her.  
  
.  
  
She’s twenty-four years old when she has the chance to go to Beacon Hills. It’s just her, though her father calls her every few days. He at least knows what she’s doing — he’d been the one who told her about the Hale pack, which was growing every day.  
  
One of the very first lessons he ever taught her was _kill or be killed_.   
  
The Hales are a lively bunch. They smile a lot and play at being human in the market place and town hall, and the library, where the smaller ones go every day after school.  
  
Kate watches them for weeks before she hones in on the youngest son, who is nearly sixteen and lonely in the way that most teenagers are. He’s got big floppy ears and his hands and feet are too big for his body, but when she bumps into him the day that its his turn to take his sister and little cousins to the library, he blushes fetchingly when she flirts with him.   
  
It’s almost too easy to get him into her bed. He’s sad and lonely, the town all abuzz about how the love of his life had died tragically months ago, turning the promising basketball star into a sad recluse who hid himself away in the music room at lunch.  
  
The first time she ever fucks him, they’re in a park. It’s late, because it wouldn’t do to have someone notice them together, so the park is empty. She holds his hand and jokes with him, throwing in jibes about how romantic it is, to be sitting here under the moonlight. She doesn’t think that he catches on, because he’s adorably naive, but it makes her laugh against his throat as she pulls him on top of her.  
  
“I want you inside me,” she whispers into his ear, pretending to ignore the way his eyes flash blue in the darkness.  
  
He lasts all of forty-seven seconds, blushing afterwards when she just laughs and pets the top of his head.   
  
The next time its better. She buys him a cock ring and rides him in the middle of the lacrosse field, twisting her hips and laughing when he digs clawed fingers into the dirt.  
  
“I’ll teach you to be so good,” she croons, her grin all teeth. It’s daddy’s grin, the one that her mother had been so frightened of in the end, but Derek can’t tell the difference — he just gazes up at her adoringly, his pupils blown so wide that it almost masks the thin ring of electric blue.   
  
Almost.  
  
.  
  
She has to fuck him all over town before he’s exactly where she wants him to be. It’s strange, because out of all the boys and girls she’s fucked over the years, he’s probably her favorite. This wolf in sheep’s clothing of a boy, with his shy smiles and adoring eyes. He loves her, completely, his little lady love that was all but forgotten when he looks at her.  
  
“You’re getting too attached,” her father tells her the next time she calls to check in. She’d been telling him about their date the night before, how Derek grinned all the way through Star Wars at the drive-in, hand tucked into hers. She hadn’t told her father about how he’d whimpered under her afterwards, fingers digging into the seat of her car, because there were just some things that even she didn’t tell her family.  
  
“How so?” she growls, knuckles going white around the phone.  
  
“You’re starting to forget what he is,” her father says, voice thin and crackly. “You’re losing sight of your goal.”  
  
“I am not,” she growls, and hangs up on him.  
  
She thinks about it the next night, after Derek has come to meet her in her hotel room. It makes her angry, but he’d been right, Kate realizes as he strokes reverent fingers across her skin. She isn’t in love with this boy, but she _is_ fond of him, fonder than she should be.  
  
That night, she rides him until he cries and doesn’t let him come until she’s got four fingers up his ass.  
  
His face is red and wrecked, and she hates him suddenly, because she wants to keep him. She could make him her own little dog — her bloodhound — she could cage and muzzle him, make him hunt his own kind. He’d do it too, if it was for her.   
  
“We’re having a family reunion tomorrow night,” he mutters into her neck. There’s a pleased smile curling around his lips and his arms are around her waist. “So I won’t be able to make it. A bunch of my family are coming up from out of town tonight and I have to go straight home after school for the party.”  
  
She grins at him, because tomorrow is the full moon, and she knows exactly what kind of family reunion it's going to be.   
  
The groundwork is all laid into place. She’s got other hunters on standby and had gotten some very helpful information from the local chemistry teacher a few nights ago. All that had been left was this, just this one last piece of the puzzle.  
  
“That’s okay, sweetie,” she tells him, kissing him soft and honey-sweet.  
  
.  
  
She watches the Hale house the next morning. Everyone is still asleep in the basement with the kids, the younger ones who are still having trouble controlling themselves during the moons. It was sentiment that made her wait until Derek and his older sister left to catch the bus before she had one of her associates cast the spell that would keep the monsters sleeping until it was too late.   
  
The accelerant is all right where she needs it to be, the mountain ash in place, all she needs to do is light the match.  
  
She’s going to be Derek’s worst nightmare, for the rest of his life. He’s going to hate her and regret everything they’ve ever done. She will haunt him like a ghost and she isn’t even worried about him coming after her. He won’t. He probably won’t even tell his sister.  
  
The worst part, is that she still regrets it — that she still wants to take him with her and make him hers. Affection is a crawling sensation beneath her skin, and she’s supposed to be better than this, better than guilt. She bites her tongue, and thinks of her father, who is never wrong, who’d told her years ago that they were all monsters pretending to be human, that their kind killed her mother and her grandmother.  
  
To be a killer, all you need is a reason. She has hers.  
  
She lights the match and burns the affection out of her.  
  
Derek’s family burns with it.  
  



End file.
